


volat

by RonnieMinor



Series: Spirit of the Season - Teen Wolf Holiday Exchange fics [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Established Relationship, F/F, Tattoos, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieMinor/pseuds/RonnieMinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cold outside and Allison is sore. Inside, the world is warm and soft and centred around Lydia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	volat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'Wings'. Set at least five years in the future, but probably more like seven.
> 
> 'Volat' means 'she flies' in Latin. (Well, he/she/it flies, but semantics…) Also, I listened to 'Harry and Hermione' by Nicholas Hopper about fifty times while I wrote this.

It’s cold outside. Unseasonably so in fact, with temperatures sitting below freezing for the past week. A thick layer of frost coats the iron-hard earth, and the grass is a pale blue-grey that crunches under the feet. Allison shivers through her wool coat, her hands curled into gloved fists in her pockets. It’s been years since she lived anywhere this cold; she’s grown unused to it, caught unawares by this sudden cold snap. She hunches her shoulders against the chill and hisses at the sting as her skin pulls. The pain’s far from the worst she’s had, but it’s persistent. 

Her fingers are clumsy as she fumbles with the keys to the apartment, first struggling to get them out of her pocket, then to open the door. She hurries inside, pushing the door shut and wincing at the noise when she remembers how early it is. She stops for a moment, listening intently. She lets out a sigh of relief when she doesn’t hear anything, carefully shrugging off her coat. Then she toes off her boots and pads into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. 

By now, the morning sun is bright and crisp against the wintry blue sky, and Allison stares out at the frozen wonderland of Beacon Hills while she waits for her coffee. Everything sparkles in the sunlight, pale and cold as a thousand diamonds. It’s stunningly beautiful, but Allison just isn’t in the mood for it today. 

Cradling her cup of coffee in slowly-thawing hands, she heads to the bedroom, opening the door silently and slipping inside. The bed is a huge mound of white duvet, bundled up like an igloo. Allison smiles, her sock-clad feet quiet against the carpeted floor as she walks over and sets her coffee down on the bedside cabinet that’s ‘hers’. She sits down, feeling the mattress dip under her weight. On the other side of the bed, Lydia’s coppery hair is a small splash of colour against her pillows. Only the very top of her head is visible and Allison smiles affectionately. Lydia doesn’t like the cold. Or early mornings, for that matter. 

She takes another sip of coffee, then slides over the mattress and burrows under the covers. Inside, it’s deliciously warm. It’s dark too, but Allison knows from experience that Lydia’s curled up like a dormouse in its nest, knees pulled up almost to her chest, head down and arms tucked into her torso. Blindly, she reaches out to where she thinks Lydia’s cheek will be, brushing against soft skin with her knuckles. Lydia makes a sleepy noise. 

‘You’re cold’, she mumbles. 

‘Sorry’, Allison whispers and makes to pull her hand away, only to have Lydia’s arm sneak round her waist and pull her in closer. ‘Mind my back’, she adds, just in case. 

‘Why?’ Lydia asks, still sounding sleep-addled. ‘Oh. Wait. It’s today, isn’t it?’ Allison nods. She feels Lydia nod in return, her slightly sour morning breathe warm against Allison’s cheek. ‘Is it finished?’ she asks. Allison nods again. 

‘Yes. It’s finished.’ 

‘Good’, Lydia says, sounding a little more awake now. ‘When can I see it? 

Allison shrugs and winces. ‘Anytime you like. It’s got the plastic wrap over it.’ 

Lydia hums contentedly. ‘Ok. I’ll take a look at it later then. I’m much too comfortable to get out of bed just yet.’ 

Allison laughs and pokes her in the side, enjoying the way Lydia squirms. ‘You’re so lazy!’ 

She just _knows_ that Lydia’s raising her eyebrows right now. 

‘Excuse you, some of us are award-winning mathematicians’, Lydia says sharply. ‘Now if _you’d_ taken the time to become the youngest ever Fields Medal recipient and invested your prize money well enough to become a multi-millionaire, maybe you could afford to be lazy too!’ 

Allison grins. ‘Show-off’, she says affectionately. ‘Not all of us can be brilliant like you.’ 

Lydia sniffs. ‘Of course not’, she says archly. ‘I’m one of a kind.’ But there’s warmth in her words and the clumsy kiss she presses to Allison’s cheek, so even if Allison disagreed – which she doesn’t – all would be forgiven. 

Allison buries her face in the soft crook of Lydia’s neck and breathes deep, inhaling the scent of sleep and skin and yesterday’s perfume. ‘I love you’, she mumbles against the pulse beneath her lips. 

‘I love you too’, Lydia says quietly, running a gentle hand through Allison’s hair. ‘Now shut up and let’s go back to sleep.’ 

Later on, they’ll get up and have brunch. Lydia will peel Allison’s top off her and marvel at the now-completed tattoos that spread across Allison’s back. They scroll from the bottom of her rub cage, up to the sharp points of her shoulder and then down her arms, feathers inked into her pale flesh like they belong there. 

When the marks have healed, Lydia will run gentle hands over the wings that sit just beneath Allison’s skin - a memorial to all those who they’ve lost - and she’ll call the huntress her avenging angel. Then she’ll press her fingers into the feathers as they make love. 

But for now, the bed is warm and dark and cosy and Allison is tired. She makes a quiet sound into Lydia’s neck and curls her fingers into Lydia’s pyjamas. 

‘Go back to sleep’, Lydia says again, softer this time. 

It’s a good plan, so Allison does as she’s told.


End file.
